


Greased Lightnin'

by lowqualtom



Series: Yours To Keep [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Consent is Sexy, Drunk Peter, F/M, Implied Smut, Playboy Peter, cat person michelle, cat person peter, grease is sexist but a good movie, its funny i guess, michelle and peter do three duets, party party
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-08
Updated: 2019-02-08
Packaged: 2019-10-24 11:07:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17703209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lowqualtom/pseuds/lowqualtom
Summary: Peter and Michelle sing a duet on opposite sides of the wall and end up doing a duet in the same bed.





	Greased Lightnin'

Michelle enjoyed singing, she wouldn’t say she was very good at it, not one bit but it was something to do around the house. She sang when she cooked, cleaned, scrolled through Instagram while on the toilet. Her apartment was constantly filled with music and her own voice to accompany it. Her favourite place to sing was the shower because apparently, it was her neighbour's favourite place to sing too. 

In her building, their apartments were mirrors of each other, which scared her at first. The idea of someone sleeping with their heads only separated by a wall wasn’t the most comforting. Sometimes, she had a nightmare that her neighbour threw an axe through her wall and made a hole large enough for him to come in, she woke up as the weapon the hooded figure swung was about to hit her. Yeah, not fun. 

However, one evening while she was having her scheduled shower (and sing along,) her neighbour decided to do so too. Michelle was just starting to really get into her rendition of Summer Nights from Grease when she just about jumped out of her skin from the sound of a voice joining her. Although the music playing from her speaker was loud, he was louder. Yeah, he. He’d just sang along with one of Danny’s lines and Michelle wasn’t sure what to do, she froze and stopped singing. 

“Are we doing this thing or not!” He shouted with a laugh over all the various noises when Michelle missed her apparent line. 

Michelle was sure how to react, instead, she wearily sang her next line, causing him to shout at her to sing louder before he launched into his next line. She couldn’t help but laugh, she was singing a duet with the neighbour she’d dreamed about murdering her. 

Neither of them was all that good of a singer but they were having fun. At least, she was. She assumed he was too from the amusement in his voice. The whole situation was ridiculous to her, dueting with her neighbour she’d never even seen before while they both showered to Grease song? She knew Liz wouldn’t believe her when she told her. 

When the song ended, she heard his shower turn off. “Well, thanks for the concert but I must be off!” 

“I hope one day we can sing together again!” Michelle replied, smiling to herself. 

“I hope so too, ma’am.” 

The excitement of finding out her neighbour was less likely to be a serial killer wore off when she heard her front door open and close at two in the morning. She sat up in her bed and grabbed the knife she kept under her mattress. Michelle had only ever pulled it out once before and it turned out to be her cat scratching too furiously at the door. 

This time it was serious though, the door opened and closed, she heard it very clearly. The sound of someone knocking something over made her jump and want to curl into a ball. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath before getting out of her bed and stalking into the living room, knife clutched so tightly her knuckles had turned white. 

Michelle’s breathing rapidly increased and her eyes widened at the sight of an actual human inside her apartment, their feet tangled up in the straps of her purses that lay on the ground from the fallen coatrack, she figured that that was what made the crashing noise. 

It suddenly struck her that this person didn’t mean any harm. She watched as they turned circles in an attempt to get out of the straps but only making it worse. Eventually, they caught their foot in one of her coats and fell. Their back hit her front door, making her flinch from the noise. When they were finally at rest of her hard floor, their head rolled back into the corner of her wall and a groan escaped their mouth. 

“Uh, hello?” Michelle squeaked, tiptoeing up to the person she figured to be a boy from the low hanging jeans and grey hoodie. 

His head tipped up and swung down on his neck, his chin ending up on his chest. He peered up through his lashes and the curls that hand flopped into his face. A small grin erupted and his arm was raised sloppily before slapping back down onto his leg.

“Hey,” He slurred, drawing out the greeting. His brows furrowed after he stared at her for a little too long and he looked around the room. “This isn’t my apartment.” 

“No,” Michelle stated, lowering the knife. “No, it’s not.”

“Then how did my-” He puffed out his cheeks. “How did my key open the door?” 

“That is a good question I will be bringing up with the landlord later,” Michelle muttered. “Anyway, are you ok?” 

“I’m good, just drunk as fuck,” The boy stuck his tongue out and laughed, his eyes closing as he waved a stupid hand gesture at her. Michelle scrunched her nose up in distaste. This male needed to leave her apartment immediately. 

“Ok, well, do you want a glass of water?” 

“Sure,” He looked her up and down. “Is that a knife?” 

“No...” 

“Cool.”  
Michelle shot him one last look, realising he wasn’t moving any time soon, before going into her kitchen and grabbing an old water bottle and filling it up. She wasn’t going to risk having a drunk stranger drop one of her two oh-so-expensive ($3) on the ground and smash it. 

When she came back into the living room, she was greeted by the sight of her cat curled up in his lap, his hands stroking her fur sloppily, yet still gently. 

“This cat is cute, does it have a name?” 

“Rosa,” Michelle replied. “Do you need help standing up?” 

“No, no, I’m good, I can stand, I’m a big boy.” He shook his head vigorously and moved the cat off his lap, giving it a thumbs up with raised brows as if to ask if she was ok. 

So Michelle stood on the opposite side of the room and watched him try and pull the bags and coats of his feet, he got there eventually. Rosa wasn’t much help, pushing her head into his hands in an attempt to be pet. 

He placed his palms against the wall and stood himself up slowly, swaying side to side when he finally got onto his feet. She bit back a laugh at the way his eyes widened and his mouth puffed as he steadied himself. Cautiously, he took a couple of steps forward, his legs crisscrossing in a way that one should not walk in. 

Michelle walked over to him and grabbed his arm, letting the drunk lean on her as she walked him to her coach and sat him on it. Was it bad that her first thought was that even though he smelt of alcohol and weed, he still smelt good? 

She handed him the water and her cat jumped back into his lap. Michelle made sure he got the bottle into his mouth and didn’t spill anything as he drank the whole bottle at once. He finished with a massive sigh, dropping the plastic onto the couch, which Michelle picked up. 

“Is your cat named after Rosa Parks?” The boy asked after a moment of silence. 

“Why do you ask that?” Michelle narrowed her eyes at him. “Is it because I’m not white?” 

“No,” He stated with a ‘duh’ tone to his voice. “It’s because you have a whole ass framed photo of her on your wall.” 

She followed his pointing arm to where she did in fact, have a framed portrait of Rosa Parks on her wall. Michelle blushed and looked back at the triumphantly smiling boy. “Yes, she is named after Rosa Parks.” 

“Cool,” He said as his hand stroked Rosa’s fur before he moved her to the side again, placing a sloppy kiss on the cats head. Michelle furrowed her brows as he began to lie down, pulling the hoodie over his head and the strings tight. “You mind if I crash here? Thanks, you’re so kind, uh, what’s your name?” 

“Michelle. I suppose I don’t have a choice do I?” 

“Nah,” He mumbled. “Peter.”

Peter stuck his hand out for her to shake but dropped it before she could grab his hand in her own. A stupid smile crossed his face and he pulled one of the cushions under his head. “Gn.” 

“Gn?” 

“Gn,” He whispered, shifting around on her couch. 

“Does that mean good night?”

“Gn.” 

Moments later, soft snores left his mouth, so Michelle went back to bed. 

The next morning she woke up, showered, brushed her teeth and got dressed only to walk into her living room to see Peter still asleep with her cat sitting on his head. She debated if she should wake him up, knowing that whenever he did, he was going to have a killer headache. 

She decided to wake him up, even though it was Saturday and he did get drunk the night before and probably didn’t have a job to get too, she wasn’t sure what other plans the boy might have. It was painfully obvious he had a thrilling social life. 

Peter woke up with a grimace, looking around the room warily and accidentally making Rosa fall from her perch. Peter jumped at the feeling of her sliding off and looked at her with eyes full of worry, which quickly turned to confusion. 

He turned to the other side to see Michelle squatting in front of him, he flinched again and raised his fists before sighing and lowering them. A hand came up and rubbed his face, pushing his hoodie and hair away. 

“Morning, tough guy. Advil?” Michelle extended an open palm with two pills on it and a full water bottle in the other hand. 

“Thanks…” Peter muttered, taking both from her but hesitating before putting it in his mouth. “How do I know this isn’t cyanide and you’re not trying to kill me?” 

“If I was going to kill you I would’ve done it last night with a knife when you broke into my apartment,” Michelle stated, smiling sweetly at him. 

Peter paused and tried his best to remember the night before, groaning when he had faint visions of knocking a coat rack over and Michelle standing across the room in his a t-shirt wielding a knife. 

“Michelle, right?” Peter asked, taking the Advil and sips of water. 

“Yep.” 

“I am so so sorry,” Peter stuttered, sitting up on the couch. “Did I break anything? I’ll pay for it, I’m sorry for waking you.” 

“It’s fine, it’s better you stumbled into here rather than that old racist prick Mr Jackson’s apartment.”

“Yeah he always gives me dirty looks when I talk to my Aunt on the phone,” Peter shrugged and nodded, agreeing with the statement before seeing the confused look on the girls face and clarifying: “She’s Italian, I talk to her in Italian. Do you want me to go?” 

“I don’t mind, I don’t have anywhere to be and I assume neither do you?” Michelle stood up and walked to the kitchen, raising her voice so he could hear her. “Do you want any food? Coffee? Do you need to charge your phone?” 

“Oh uh,” Peter felt around his pockets for his phone and eventually found it after having a mini heart attack. He cursed when the flat battery symbol flashed at him. “No, I don’t have anywhere to be and yes to everything else.” 

He walked into the kitchen with a cringe on his face and a hand on his slightly aching forehead after she told him he could charge his phone in there. Peter plugged the shattered device in and leant on the counter, watching his new best friend make him toast. 

The boy couldn’t help but feel lucky he accidentally broke into Michelle’s apartment. She was too nice to him, having just met him while he was drunk a mere few hours ago. Not to mention, she was really pretty. 

Maybe he only thought that because she bent down in front of him to pick up a knife she dropped, he couldn’t help it, he’s hormonal and he didn’t get to waste that on anyone last night. Peter gulped and looked away as quick as he could because before he knew it, she was turning around. Michelle had a bored look on her face as she shoved a plate of toast into his chest. “Boys.” 

Peter blushed and muttered thanks before sinking his teeth into the bread. She gave a tight tight-lipped smile and narrowed her eyes before starting to make coffee. As per her usual morning routine, she hummed to herself. She would’ve sung, but Peter was there and she doesn’t know him like that yet. The boy in the shower yesterday was a different story. 

“Grease?” Peter chuckled as he swallowed. “That’s funny, last night I sang a song from Grease with-” 

Michelle spun so fast she was surprised she didn’t lose balance, her eyes were wide and she pointed at him. Peter too was clearly shocked but also rather excited. He laughed loudly, head tilted back and put his plate on the bench. 

“No fucking way,” He clapped his hands together as Michelle blushed and covered her cheeks. “This is too funny.” 

“It’s really not funny,” She mumbled. 

“It is, wow it’s like fate wanted us to duet,” Peter smirked at her, causing her to glare at him. 

“Fate, huh?” 

“I mean, you know what other kind of duet we could do?” Peter asked suggestively, stepping closer to her with an arm extended. 

“You’re so gross, get out of my house.” Michelle swatted at his arm with a scowl. 

“What’s so wrong with you’re the one that I want?” He furrowed his brows, contrasting with the stupid smile on his face. 

Michelle huffed and turned away from him, placing her hands on her cheeks in an attempt to cool them down. Peter laughed to himself and returned to his toast, too chuffed for Michelle’s liking. The boy hummed the song in question, all too pleased with himself. She wished she threw that knife at him when she caught him staring at her ass. 

Sighing, she put the coffee down next to him and went and sat down at her dining table, scrolling through various different apps on her phone. Peter watched her closely, chewing slower and slower on his toast. 

“What’re you doing tonight?” He asked eventually, breaking the silence. 

“Why?” 

“Come out with me.” 

“Um,” Michelle looked up at him. “No.” 

“Why not?” Peter asked, going and sitting next to her on the table, leaning into the girl. 

“After seeing the state of you last night?” Michelle scoffed. “I’d rather not.” 

“You don’t have to drink, just come, it’ll be fun,” Peter smiled and rested his head on his hand, jutting his chin towards her. “It’s just a house party.” 

Michelle sighed, her eyes flickering towards him and then quickly looking away when she noticed how close he was to her. 

“I’ll take that as a yes, we leave at 10.” Peter hit the table with his palm causing Michelle to flinch. He stood up from the table, drank his coffee in one go (which to be honest, was pretty impressive,) grabbed his phone and decided that 18% would last him for the day. Peter gave a salute and a bow to Michelle before giving Rosa a smooch on the head and swiftly exiting her apartment. 

Michelle spent the rest of the day in a daze. This Peter boy was, to put it short, an enigma. She couldn’t figure him out. Was he a nerd? A playboy? A party animal? A twink? Hey, she wasn’t one to assume that kind of thing. At 8:30 pm, she was even shocked herself to be standing in front of her closet, overthinking her outfit. 

She needed Liz. She called Liz. She forced Liz to come. Liz helped her get ready. 

At exactly ten, three sharp knocks sounded on her door. Michelle took a deep breath, why she was nervous to see Peter, she would never know. Liz trailed behind her and watched as she opened the door, excited to see what the ever elusive Peter Parker looked like. 

When Michelle opened the door, she was welcomed by the sight of Peter leaning against the door frame, his eyes droopy and his smile crooked. His cheeks were flushed and hair already floppy. The boy's smile widened as he looked her up and down and got even bigger when he saw Liz behind Michelle. He stuck his hand out and grabbed Liz’s, placing a kiss on the back of it. “Nice to meet you, I’m Peter.” 

“Liz,” She blushed and tilted her head, smiling when Peter called her pretty. 

“Alright, that’s enough. Are you already drunk?” Michelle flicked him in the forehead, his hand coming up to swat hers away two seconds too late. 

“You’re not?” He looked at her with a sarcastic grin before looking at Liz. “You let her stay sober? You’ve both got much to learn, let me teach you.” 

“Let’s go.” Michelle pushed past and knocked his shoulder, causing him to sway a little but keep his balance, walking next to Liz as they exited their apartment building. 

She kept her arms folded over her chest, a permanent frown etched onto her face as she listened to Peter flirt with Liz. Giggles sounded from her best friend that she knew all too well. Michelle couldn’t hear what Peter was saying, because he was all but whispering into the taller girls ear, his arm wrapped around her waist lightly. 

Peter took a quick break from attempting to get his dick wet to tell Michelle where they were going, which turned out to only be a five-minute walk from their apartment, thank god. She really wasn’t sure how much longer she could handle Peter and Liz, she almost regretted being sober. 

Of course, by the time they got there, the party was in full swing and Peter took charge. He let go of Liz’s waist and opened up the door, stretching out his arms as if he was expecting applause, which he didn't get. A couple of boys hollered his name, to which he responded too by wrapping his arm around both Michelle and Liz’s shoulders and walking up to them. 

Typical boy talk ensued, which Michelle ignored by picking at her nails. Eventually, she had enough of listening to them talk about the Super Bowl and grabbed Liz’s wrist. “We’re going to get a drink.” 

“Ok,” Peter slurred but pointed at them. “I’ve stashed some stuff in the cabinet above the fridge, only drink that because God knows everything else is fucking roofied. Don’t take drinks from anyone except me and don’t leave them unattended. Stay safe.” 

Michelle went to respond but he’d already returned to his friends, leaving her to be slightly impressed that he cared enough. Peter was already a better man than the majority she’d met. Liz pouted but followed her best friend through the wasted bodies and followed Peter’s instructions, finding sealed bottles in the cabinet above the fridge. 

Being the social butterfly she was, Liz was whisked away by some girls she vaguely knew but pretended to be best friends with anyway. Michelle was left to her own devices (alcohol) in the kitchen. They open plan of the house worked out very well for her, she could see the whole party from her corner. She watched all sorts of people come and go, she watched boys pine desperately after girls and vice versa. 

Parties weren’t her thing, they were too desperate for her. Everyone here was desperate for something. Validation, attention, a partner, sex, to drown their sorrows. Michelle was not a desperate person. If she wanted it, she got it. If she couldn’t get it, she moved on. Desperation was the most pathetic way to live, in her own, usually accurate, opinion.  
Michelle didn’t know how long she was there for but what she did know, is that ‘You’re The One That I Want’ was suddenly blasting through the speakers and Peter was bursting into her line of vision. His arms were outstretched and a smile that really pissed Michelle off. She bit the inside of her cheek as he began his sloppy performance. 

She could very clearly hear his voice shouting along with the lyrics as he pulled his flannel shirt off. Well, he tried to pull it off, it got stuck on his wrist and took a fair few seconds to actually end up on the ground. Peter really did end up on his knees, looking up at her with a hopeful look. 

Olivia Newton-John’s voice was heard but Michelle’s was not, instead she skulled the rest of her fairly full cup and threw it on the ground, twisting it into the ground with her foot. The frown on Peter’s face turned back into his usual smile. Michelle made a note that Peter had seen this movie far too many times. 

Michelle walked over to him, stumbling a little, still ignoring the fact she was apparently supposed to be singing. She glanced around the room, blushing at the fact that people had started to stare at them. She grabbed the collar of Peter’s shirt and yanked him to his feet.

Well, she tried. It took him a lot of effort to get onto one knee and after realising it almost looked like a proposal (what a shitty setting to be proposed to in,) she willed him with all her might to stand up. Peter tried, he really did, but he ended up having to pull himself up with Michelle’s cardigan. 

He laughed, keeping his hands on her hips. Michelle rolled her eyes but couldn’t hold back a small smile. “I hope you know this movie is incredibly sexist and I hate it and I hate that you’ve seen it more than me, dork.” 

“If you hate it, how do you know all the songs and dances?” He was slurring even worse than he was before she left. 

“Guilty pleasure,” She admitted begrudgingly. 

“Same,” Peter smiled. “Wanna do that other duet I talked about today?” 

“I thought we just did it.” 

“For one-st, you haven’t sung a single word and it’s still going. For two-ly, me and you both know it’s not really what I was talking about,” Peter whispered, getting closer to her face, his arms snaking further and further around her waist. 

“First of all, it’s you and I, second, I’m surprised you haven’t made an attempt yet.” 

“Consent is important and necessary.”  
Michelle couldn’t help it, her arms that were previously pressed against his chest launched around his neck and her lips fervently latched onto his. She could feel him smile against her, one of his hands coming up to pull her head closer to his. Her glasses nudged his nose as she arched her back into him. 

The swayed and bumped into people but Michelle didn’t give a single shit. Sometimes they stumbled a few steps together but they never separated. Not even when they stumbled into Michelle’s apartment, knocking over the coat rack but successfully not getting tangled in it. Not even when Michelle stumbled into her bed, her knees buckling and Peter collapsing on the bed on top of her. 

They both shifted up the bed until her head landed on the pillow. Her cardigan was long gone, discarded on the couch or to be honest, probably the floor next to the couch. Peter had left his shirt at the party but he couldn’t care at all. 

“Say something else,” Michelle rushed, pulling Peter’s shirt over his head and biting her lip at the sight of him above her. 

“Men don’t have a say in abortion because they don’t have a uterus,” Peter whispered and kissed her neck. 

“Damn right they don’t,” Michelle growled and pushed Peter off her so she could climb on top and straddle his hips. 

Peter grinned as she pulled her dress over her head, marvelling at the sight in front of him. As Michelle undressed both of them, she figured that the only hole in the wall her neighbour would be making wouldn’t be from an axe. Michelle was more than okay with this hole in the wall. He did murder her that night, just with a sword instead.

**Author's Note:**

> twitter @/lowqualtom  
> this started as a prompt i found on tumblr or something mixed with another and then i was listening to grease and it just got out of control but she's here and i like her. also the last line is really really stupid but its midnight and my brain thinks its funny but my body know it isn't.


End file.
